


Others Like Me

by dilynnAconite



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brief depiction of violence, Gen, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilynnAconite/pseuds/dilynnAconite
Summary: Seagulls... All they have to worry about is food. They're free to do as they please, otherwise, and no one argues that they're seagulls. Even then, if someone does, their lives don't depend on it anyway. Telling a seagull that it isn't a seagull won't make it not a seagull.But if no one recognizes a nation, is it still a nation?After the passing of his friend Hutt River, Sealand questions his own place in the world and reflects on his old memories as HM Fort Roughs.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Others Like Me

Peter laid back on the old helicopter pad and watched as the seagulls circled overhead. _They're so free. So sure of themselves. If I was a seagull, I'm sure that I would be fearless._

He wasn't fearless, but by then, his tears from a few hours before had dried.

_Seagulls... All they have to worry about is food. They're free to do as they please, otherwise, and no one argues that they're seagulls. Even then, if someone does, their lives don't depend on it anyway. Telling a seagull that it isn't a seagull won't make it not a seagull._

_But if no one recognizes a nation, is it still a nation?_

Peter closed his eyes.

* * *

"What are you doing up here?! Get down to the lower levels!"

It was the middle of the day, yet it was much too dark to see the roaring tides below until the lightning cracked down, illuminating everything in sight in a brilliant show of light. Peter jumped, clinging with one hand to the rail of HM Fort Roughs and the other to his hat as another huge wave swept across the underside of the platform. It was a nightfall during the day, something that both terrified and thrilled Peter to see.

That was, until the glint of metal caught his eye. He could almost hear a ping ring inside his ears.

"Mister, um, mister lieutenant general major sir--" Peter yelped as he was cut off by the explosive boom of thunder "-- there's a plane!"

"Pardon?!" Mister lieutenant general major sir, or... whatever his real name was (Peter couldn't remember, surely the man's rank was one of those things) ran to the rail to get a better look at the dark shape. "What in God's name-- You keep an eye on things, kid, and try not to fall! You're too short for those rails! You need to get--"

That was the last thing the man with many titles said before he dropped to the ground in a flurry of bullets.

The deck of the fort stained with red that quickly washed away in the rain. Peter forced himself to tear his eyes away and run as cannons began to fire. He made one quick glance across the waves, one desperate look south where he knew his twin naval fort stood, before scurrying below the main deck.

He pressed himself against the metal wall, shaking and trying to catch his breath. The pinging noises in his ears were so much louder now, as well as scrambled communication waves. _Why do they give their lives like this?!_

War was all he knew as HM Fort Roughs. It wasn't something he feared. Watching humans drop had become a daily occurrence.

What he feared was the end of the war. _What use does a naval fort have after the war is over? What will I be used for then?_

Peter was made for war, quite literally. He was supposed to have a one-track mind: Defend the country of England. In a way, that was true. That was his purpose. That's what was always on his mind.

But, at the same time, the stories he'd heard from the men of the fort...

Stories of Christmas, of family, of friendship. Stories of weddings or missed wives or distant long-gone mothers.

_Am I defending something I will never understand?_

Personifications like Peter, whether they be forts or battleships or even a small submarine, all have something built into their mind that the national personifications don't. 

They expect to die.

They live their duties in war, then move on to the next life. Some live for weeks, months, years, or centuries; but they are all de-commissioned once they're no longer useful.

_I should be out there giving my life right now, but they keep shoving me out of the way!_

Another loud crack of thunder boomed through the halls, causing Peter to jump. Maybe he preferred to be shoved out of the way sometimes after all.

* * *

Hours after the battle, Peter was forced to bed. It was now early morning of the next day, yet Peter couldn't help but be kept awake by his thoughts.

Once this war was over, his purpose was done. If he was no longer needed, he and his distant brother forts would be left alone, ghosts of their former selves.

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. The soldiers were lucky. If they survived, they would be sent back home to their families. If Peter was lucky, he wouldn't be left alone.

How he wished to meet the other forts that were around him. On clearer days, he could sometimes make out the signals or the speck of metal in the distance of the closest fort, HM Fort Sunk Head. Those days, however, were rare. 

_How many others are out there that are like me? How many others will I get to see before it all ends?_

Life was fragile, he knew. Death was inevitable. But why was life _important?_ What was so _important_ across the waves that these men were willing to lose their lives to protect it? He would never know, he decided.

_You remind me of my boy back home. He's about your age, or... I guess older, now._

Peter frowned. The soldier in question would die within a week of saying that. 

_Then why aren't you with him?_

Parents were such a risky subject for him. On one hand, he knew exactly who his parents were, on the other, the information getting out would cause a multitude of scandals.

And on yet another hand, none of it mattered, did it?

_You're on borrowed time, kid. Best to make the most of it._

Forgotten personifications died. _I'm the most forgettable of them all._

_At least my duties will be said and done when it's all over with. I'll have been a good fort._

_But will anyone remember me at all?_

_I'll find others like me if I survive,_ he told himself.

_If._

That's when he realized his life was more fragile than before.

_There's so many other personifications out there besides the nations, and the nations need to learn that they're not the only ones. Not just the other forts. Whether they personify something good or bad, we're more than our personifications, right? Otherwise I wouldn't be wondering about the outside world right now. Naval forts should only worry about their jobs, right?_

_I didn't choose this, and they didn't either. And I swear I will bring the world together before my days are over._ He nodded to himself, staring up at the dull grey ceiling.

One thing still lingered on his mind, however. 

_The general understanding among the nations is that they can't be fully good. At some time or place, their bosses are going to force them to do something they don't want to or they'll get mixed up in some bad part of history._

His eyebrows furrowed.

_But... Can any personification be truly evil? We're all what the humans define us as, right? And even the negative personifications can only be affected by the humans that add to what they are, right?_

His first thoughts of this concerned his own father, or, one of his fathers. England. England was not a pinnacle of morality by any means, and Peter knew the blood that stained his history. But, at the same time, the only humans who could affect the personification were the English. Arthur was what the English made him out to be, not anyone _outside_ of England. 

With such a large group of people necessary to sustain a personification, each of them varied in their own individual lives, could Arthur ever be considered good or evil at all?

Another concern of his was Ludwig, a man with an even darker present than England's past and, more importantly, Peter's other father. Ludwig himself was considered a good man by the ones who knew him, and a bad one by Arthur's allies, but could he ever be considered good or evil? He never held hate in his own heart, as far as Peter knew, but the current state of his nation still weighed in on the personification. At the same time, however, Ludwig was the personification of Germany. Only the Germans could affect his personification. 

Somehow his parents had still held a secret relationship with one another despite being on opposing sides of the war. That meant they had minds of their own _outside_ of their personifications, and that Arthur understood Ludwig wasn't evil despite current events of the country Ludwig personified. 

_Yet I'm still stationed to defend my father's land from my other father. I know they still write to each other._

Yet another example came in America. Bright, young, and _severely_ depressed from what Peter saw of when Alfred's cheery mask he usually hid behind slipped. Despite being America, Alfred himself wasn't consumed by power at all. He instead hid behind it in fear. Alfred wasn't even allowed citizenship by his own government for fear that his vote may sway the republic his country was built upon (a notion found absolutely ridiculous by the other countries). Despite his own country's dark past, even Alfred wasn't affected by anyone who wasn't an American. Alfred was the perception of America by his own people, legal citizens or otherwise, just like all of the other nations.

_Then what about those who aren't nations?_

If a personification couldn't be affected by any humans not involved with them, then could they be held to the same moral scale as the humans?

Personifications were created by the humans, he knew, but could a personification ever be inherently evil like humans sometimes could?

Just as he was a fort with what was _supposed_ to be a one-track mind, his mind could still wander. Their minds could wander too. Surely even the personifications of negative things could question themselves and what they were doing just as he was. They could have questions about family, about what it was their humans spoke with them about. About friendship.

_Maybe,_ Peter thought to himself, _they could question enough that they could be more human than the ones who made up the idea they personify._

_They could question their own morality, or mortality, just like I am now._

* * *

Peter sighed deeply, watching the seagulls still circle on the long-abandoned fort. No longer was he just HM Fort Roughs, he was the Principality of Sealand. It was a one in a million chance for it to happen, but being hijacked for a pirate radio station had brought life to the hunk of steel and concrete once again.

It was... Different, this time.

His last bit of excitement that resembled anything like the war had been a hostage crisis, somehow, and an _almost_ recognition. _I'm independent, but for how long?_

He had felt alive for the first time in his life when Sealand established itself as its own country. 

Yet, he understood that as a micronation, his life could be taken from him at any moment. All it would take would be one of his royal family members to lose a legal battle or to give up the title.

One micronation went up in flames. Others would disappear with a bang of a gavel. Some were lucky, like Seborga, and had what at least seemed like stable footing.

Others were like Peter, with every day feeling like it was lessening his chance of survival. _I'm one of the oldest micronations._

_How many of us will live much longer?_

Many of the micronations he had once known had passed. Some found routes to safety, like Kugelmugel, who was now personifying the house that made up the original micronation. Others were not so lucky. One gave up on being a micronation on his own terms and now lived as a human.

Recently, another had gone silent.

_Ping._

Peter jumped, thumping the side of his head. _Shut up, I don't think I even have that part anymore!_

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

_Wait, what am I even picking up on?!_ Peter scrambled to his feet, trying to get a sense of direction. 

This wasn't the first time he'd picked up something out of nowhere.

His eyes went skyward. Nothing.

_Ping. Ping. Ping._

Peter paused before rushing to the rail. Looking across the waves, he saw the faint outline of a ship out in the waters. _Ah. The usual, then._

The ship floated by, quite a ways away, towards the shores of England. Peter watched it float by. _I wonder what her name is. And who she is, really. I'm practically like a ship, I'm just permanently sunk and can't move the fort._

He sighed deeply. _She's just as free as the seagulls, even if she has a job to do._

Everything is personified. He knew that to be true by then. For years, he thought it had been bigger things only. Nations, forts, perhaps tank models or other equipment. Now he knew otherwise, standing on the platform where his own micronation flag was waving in the gentle breeze.

_Yet I'm me. There isn't another personification anything like me._

He considered himself a nation, but he knew that wasn't quite right. He didn't have land, and his citizens didn't live on the fort any longer.

He certainly wasn't a ship like the one he watched pass by in the distance, though he shared many of the same traits as the ship personifications: Steel bones, an inherent radar system, the ability to run across the top of the water and launch himself onto his deck (he unfortunately couldn't jump like that on land, he'd found). 

No longer was he much of a naval fort like the ghosts along the shore. He was alive and breathing, still. There were no longer any planes to defend England from, his job was over.

Yet he lived on.

He was a micronation, and each micronation was wildly unique. Some were luckier than others, and he felt it then that he was one of them. Sadness still hung in his heart from recent losses, but all the same, he felt _different._

_I've gotta stop moping around and get the other micronations together again. We've gotta stick together during rough times like this. I'm the leader of the micronations for a reason, I'm supposed to help them through bad times._

Times like another loss of another micronation. He frowned. _Hutt River will live on, you've gotta remember how us personifications work. He'll live on in death, and we need to get ready for that._ He glanced across the waters, far beyond the ship. The day was clear enough that he could see HM Sunk Head off in the distance.

Peter wasn't a nation, or a boat, or really even much of a fort any longer, but he was definitely _Sealand._

With a deep sigh, Peter pushed away from the rail. "Okay," he mumbled to himself, "focus. You need to get the micronations together. They've gotta be taking the Hutt River situation a lot harder than you. Stop wondering about everything else. You've got your mind in order, now let's get going."

And with that, Peter ran, flung himself over the rail, and dove into the sea below so he could make his way to England. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story includes a few personal headcanons of mine. First is that the nations aren't the only personifications to exist in the world of Hetalia, as implied by Peter's thoughts and acknowledgment of the ship in the distance as a "she." Second is that the different personifications have different abilities, like Peter being able to pick up on things with a radar or being able to run across the water.
> 
> As for England and Germany being Sealand's parents, it ties into there being more types of personifications. The idea is that if two personifications have a child (which is a rare occurrence), the child will be a personification that references the parents' personifications. Sealand first personified HM Fort Roughs, the naval fort that later becomes Sealand the micronation, HM Fort Roughs was an English anti-aircraft naval fort used to protect England from Germany's plane fire and to deter mine-placing German ships. (This also comes from how Sealand sort of looks like a younger Germany to me.)
> 
> I've had the basic idea for this in my head for over a year. I started writing this back in May and let it sit in the folder for a while, but now I've come back and finally completed it!
> 
> I've always seen Peter as having a bit of a different outlook on life than the others because of the unique circumstances surrounding him, so this was my attempt at showing that.


End file.
